


you and me (from the night before)

by fbismoak (midwestwind)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, New Year's Eve, Party, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Season/Series 06, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/fbismoak
Summary: Felicity drinks a bit too much to survive a mayoral New Year's Eve party. Oliver helps her through her hangover.





	you and me (from the night before)

**Author's Note:**

> There's like maybe tangential plot here? But it's mostly just an excuse to finally give these two the sex they deserve. Holiday sex! Also, I couldn't resist titling it after New Year's Day by Taylor Swift. Sorry for being basic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Felicity had forgotten what dating the mayor entailed over the time she and Oliver were broken up. 

 

Except, she’d never technically dated _ the mayor _ the first time around, Oliver was still just a candidate for the gig. And, now, she’s not technically  _ dating _ the mayor. Because, well, she’s married to him instead.

 

So, let’s try that again; Felicity hadn’t thought about what being married to the mayor would actually entail. It’s not that she’s never attended one of the city events Oliver is required to host or make an appearance at. She’d done it even while they weren’t together, an unshakable want to support him while he genuinely tried to make the city a better place to live - both with and without a mask.

 

But being at one of these events as the mayor’s ex-fiancee who he just happens to still have a friendly relationship with is one thing. Being here as the mayor’s  _ wife _ \- the one he’d dated, publicly proposed to, subsequently broke up with, and then married in a sudden private ceremony in a different city - was something entirely different.

 

It’s really her own fault for not paying attention to the amount of wine she’s been drinking all night, but in the morning her hangover will want to blame Oliver for not monitoring her alcohol intake.

 

“You okay?” He asks, for what is probably somewhere between the third and fifth time since they’d arrived at city hall for the party. His lips glide dangerously close to her ear with the words, his hand trailing across the back of her dress.

 

She’s definitely had too much wine if the simple gesture makes her wish it were possible to sneak him off to the coat closet at his own party.

 

“Yup,” she says, popping the P and earning herself an odd look from him. There isn’t long for him to linger on it, though, as someone new comes over looking for the attention of the mayor. Felicity tries to listen to the conversation, but she’s having real trouble focus on so much truly boring small talk.

 

If it had been up to her, they would be ringing in the New Year with much less glamor. Something small, that didn’t require leaving William with Thea for the night while they sipped too expensive champagne and Felicity tried not to go blind from the sheer amount of twinkle lights reflecting off decorations, jewelry, and clothing.

 

They could have invited John and Lyla. Watched the ball drop in simplicity. Felicity could kiss Oliver at midnight, knowing that it would only be the first of many, many kisses to come in the new year. Maybe it’s possessiveness that has her in a mood, heightened with the alcohol and lack of calories provided by the finger foods. The problem is that she’s never been particularly fond of sharing him and now she has to compete with a whole city.

 

Oliver’s fingers tighten against her hip, pulling her back to the moment. Felicity frowns, looking down at her somehow once again empty glass and trades it for a new one as a waiter passes by. The newcomers drift away finally, only to be replaced with more interested parties looking for a moment of Oliver’s time.

 

The topic of the anti-vigilante bill comes up with almost every conversation, to varying degrees of agreement and disagreement. Felicity bites down on her tongue, almost painfully, to keep from adding her two cents. Oliver has publicly promised to support the decision of the voters - no matter how stupid and ill-informed Felicity thinks the voters are - which means she should back him on it.

 

Except if someone actually directs the question towards her, she’s likely to say more than she intends to. It’s a curse, really.

 

“How are you doing?” Oliver asks, once they get a small break and he directs her towards the gold bauble covered Christmas tree still standing in front of the windows. Yeah, Felicity is almost positive that’s number six.

 

“Fantastic,” she sighs, knowing she probably sounds the opposite. She covers it with a sip from her wine glass, quietly wishing the white the caterers had supplied were a red instead. “Just getting a little tired.”

 

Oliver doesn’t look like he believes her, but he doesn’t push it. He knows how much she dislikes these kinds of events and the stuffy people they’re required to make conversation with. The room never feels big enough for the amount of people packed into it, no matter where they are, and she is always itching to get out so she can breathe again.

 

“Well, we’ve only got another,” he lifts his arm, pulling it from around her to check the watch on his wrist, “hour and a half until midnight. After that, we’ll give it about a half hour before we make our exit. Does that sound okay?”

 

Felicity hums in agreement just as a couple comes over to greet them and ask almost alarmingly personal questions about their wedding. Oliver fields it all like a pro. Felicity waves down another waiter.

 

\---

 

She wakes up with a pounding headache and is almost immediately grateful that Oliver’s new apartment does not have the same amount of natural light as the loft has. Still, she pushes her face into the dark blue pillow beneath her head and lets out a hiss at the feeling of a leftover bobby pin sticking into her scalp.

 

“Good morning,” Oliver’s sleep rough voice comes from next to her ear and she doesn’t have to look over at him to know he’s smirking at her. She groans in response, the sound muffled by the pillow pressing into her face.

 

He drags his fingertips down her spine beneath the comforter and Felicity realizes she’s only wearing the lacy bra and underwear set she’d worn under her dress last night. She remembers dropping the nice dress sloppily to the floor and crawling into the bed, ignoring Oliver as he tried to convince her to put on pajamas.

 

Now, his fingers trip over the scar tissue on her back, following the lines left behind by her surgeries the same way she’d done to his body too many times to count. So, you know, at least drunk Felicity did something to benefit her.

 

“Why did you let me drink so much wine?” She huffs, turning her face so she can open one eye and peer at him.

 

“Let you?” Oliver echoes, huffing a laugh. The movement of his fingers stops for just a moment before he trails them back up her spine. Even hungover and tired, her breath hitches at the feeling. She lets her eyes drift shut again, focusing on the drag of his fingers over her skin instead.

 

“Felicity,” he says quietly after a moment and she blinks back into awareness. He’s got his head pillowed on his bicep and the dark blue of the bedding makes his eyes shine. Felicity reaches for him instinctively, her hand landing on his hip under the covers as he continues, “Happy New Year.”

 

She offers him a small, tired smile. She remembers kissing him last night as the clock struck midnight and the calendar year rolled over. Too many, too loud voices counting down to the change as Oliver pulled her close with one arm, a flute of champagne in his other hand. He hadn’t counted, staring down at her rather than the numbers ticking away on the large screen that had been set up.

 

“Happy New Year,” he’d said quietly, just for her, as the counting turned to cheering and shouting.

 

She echoes the words back to him now and Oliver moves forward to press his lips to hers, her mess of slept upon curls catching in his beard as his cheek skims over the pillows to reach her. Felicity turns a bit more fully towards him, her other hand freeing itself from under the duvet to cup his jaw.

 

“Love you,” she murmurs as he pulls away. She doesn’t let him go far, chasing after him for another, longer kiss. The pains from her hangover fade into the background as Oliver’s hands find her hips and she lifts herself on top of him, the blankets falling away as she settles her legs on either side of his hips.

 

His hand comes up from her hip, skimming along the side of her bra, playing at the lace decorating the cup. The matching underwear don’t really offer much in the way of coverage, so when his other hand dips down towards her ass, his warm calloused fingers drag over her suddenly superheated skin. Felicity rocks against him as he sucks gently on her lower lip.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to work each other up, it never really does. Oliver is kneading her ass, encouraging her to continue the gentle rocking of her hips against his own, his erection covered by the soft cotton of his sweatpants.

 

“God,” he groans as she dips her head, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses across the skin of his chest. She hovers over the messy burns left behind where his tattoo had once been, and follows the circular shape of it with her tongue. He pants out, his hips lifting up to meet hers in the most delicious way, “I need you.”

 

Felicity isn’t entirely sure he’s talking about the sex.

 

She pauses against him, halting their rhythm to fumble for the nightstand next to his side of the bed where she knows he stashes the box of condoms. They should probably have a better hiding place, somewhere not so easy for William to stumble upon them if he decided to go exploring. Felicity shakes the thought from her head as Oliver takes the foil packet from her hands, ripping it open easily, and she decides to table it for after.

 

Felicity lets him focus on unwrapping the condom while she works to unwrap him, looping her fingers through the waistband on his sweatpants and easing them down enough to free him. She reaches for the condom again, sitting up to try and roll it onto him. He sits up with her, pulling one of the cups on her bra down to reveal her nipple, taking it into his mouth.

 

She revels in the sensations he’s creating for a moment, every swipe of his tongue felt all the way down to her toes, before trying to push him away because she can’t get the condom on him with the angle he’s created.

 

“Oliver, stop,” she huffs out on a quiet laugh when he resists her, because it’s so simple and right with him and she just loves him  _ so  _ much.

 

He releases her finally, hands wrapping around her back to unclasp the lace bra while she rolls the condom down him, finishing it off with long, slow strokes of her fingers. He grunts against her, tossing the bra aside and pulling her mouth to his. Felicity slides her tongue against his, shifting her hips to move her underwear to the side and guide him inside of her.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes as his eyes squeeze shut, his body tensed up against her as they adjust to the change, like it’s the first time and not too many to possibly count. Once he opens his eyes again, he echoes her thoughts from the moment before, “I love you so much.”

 

She rocks her hips against his. 

 

“Why don’t you show me how much, Mr. Smoak?” She asks, smirking as the term of endearment falls from her lips, liking how natural it sounds, how right. Oliver flips them suddenly, pressing his hips into hers, and she sucks in a breath, her eyes squeezing shut.

 

His voice comes low and rough, right next to her ear, “With pleasure, Mrs. Queen.”

 

He drags his mouth across her jaw, down her throat as he creates a rhythm between them. She knows she’ll have the telltale red marks from his beard later which will make it a high neckline sweater kind of day. She retaliates, tugging his mouth back to hers for a disarming kiss before scraping her teeth over the column of his throat, sucking at the juncture of his neck and shoulder with the intent to leave a mark of her own.

 

He laughs, unfazed by her leaving a brand on him beyond the rough way he thrusts his hips against hers. Felicity digs her fingers into his arms, searching for leverage as she feels herself nearing the edge. Oliver reads the tell, rolling them so she’s back on top of him and stroking his fingers over her clit in slow circles. He waits until she’s breathing hard, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she teeters at the edge, to sit up and wrap an arm around her back.

 

“Let go,” he instructs gently, his mouth pressed to her ear. Felicity wraps her hand around the back of his neck and Oliver increases the pressure on her clit, pushing her over the edge to her orgasm. She guides his mouth back to hers for a sloppy kiss as he works her through it, her hips rocking against his, pushing him closer to his own release.

 

Once his hips begin to jerk against hers, movements becoming erratic and eager, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him back down into the pillows. Oliver comes with her name on his lips and she swallows the word, kissing him as his muscles move beneath her hands.

 

When they can both breathe again, respective orgasms fading and leaving a delightful lethargy in their bodies, Felicity rolls off of him, flopping back into the pillows next to his head.

 

"A happy new year, indeed," she laughs, her chest moving with her panting as Oliver grins over at her. 

 

Maybe she's an eternal optimist doomed to be proven wrong by the universe, but she really thinks it's going to be a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me places?  
> twitter: twitter.com/fellicityqueen  
> tumblr: fellicityqueen.tumblr.com


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